Assasin's Dream
by Redi Chalyn
Summary: He tried to kill her once, but now his nightmares are of her death. Zevran/Female Tabris (City Elf). First in Romance Saga.
1. Zevran 1

Zevran jumped off of the body of an ogre he'd just killed, hearing Allistar's war cry. Though he knew the ex-templar was near enough, it seemed as though all sounds were distant. He saw the Hurlock General and called out that that was the primary target. As he ran toward the enemy, he realized he was alone. He looked behind and saw Allistar lay dead, his lifeblood pooling around him. Morrigan was casting a spell on the General. Zevran began to call out to her that a genlock was running behind her, but too late. Morrigan fell to her knees as the darkspawn sword sliced into her shoulder, slicing her jugular. Frantically, Zevran looked for the warden. Relief flooded him as he saw her auburn hair, decorated with beads. Relief was quickly replaced with panic, however, when he saw that the General had turned his attention to her. Zevran ran to assist, but could ultimately only watch as the two exchanged blows. The General fell, dead, but the warden was not without injury. She staggered backward, dropping her daggers and touching her middle. Zevran ran to her and caught her as she fell, holding her, feeling her lifeblood flow freely over his legs. All sounds were distant to his ears, but her whisper was clear. "I...love...you..."

Zevran sat bolt upright, sweat dampening his hair and trickling down his skin. His breathing was ragged, his heart still beating wildly from his dream. _Twas only a dream_ he thought. And yet...it had been so real. He buckled his leather armor on and went outside, looking around camp. There was the warden, bent over the fire, staring into the flames. The moon was yet high, no trace of sunrise. Everyone else was asleep. Zevran walked to the fire, crouching before it. He too stared into the depths of the flames, memorizing them instead of remembering his dream.

"It's late. Or early. Why are you up?" The warden's voice was smooth and cool as cream, despite how it could spit venom at anyone who irritated her.

"Tis the best time, my dear." Zevran was surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

The warden grunted, inclining her head. "For sleeping and thinking, maybe."

Zevran smirked, thinking of several other things that this was the perfect time for, most of which involved rope. He was about to vocalize these thoughts when the warden stood. He stood as well, looking at her.

"You're pale, Zev. And you're sweating. Don't fight the battles in your sleep: we fight them tomorrow." The warden was being almost cold, as though she had had another vision, yet there was a flicker of what could be concern in her eyes. Perhaps there was something else.

Zevran suddenly lost all his thoughts of bedding the warden as he looked into her eyes. That look...Zevran remembered suddenly his dream. _I love you_. She had died.

Something must have shown in Zevran's eyes to the warden because she was closer to him almost instantly, looking deeply into his eyes. Zevran was barely aware of how he was shaking; he only knew that he could hold her as she died in the battle that was sure to come sooner rather than later. The warden gently touched his cheek, her eyes widening. "Maker! Zevran, what in-come on." She gently led him to her own tent, closing the flap behind them. She faced him and quickly began undoing his armor.

"Ah, already to this, are we?" The remark was half-hearted, though. Zevran was beginning to feel increasingly horrible. Flashes of the dream kept making themselves known, and he hardly noticed when he was being eased down onto the warden's bedroll and covered up. She herself laid beside him, her lean, beautiful body encircling him. Her scent was overwhelming, enveloping his senses. As he began to pass into sleep, Zevran spoke in a hoarse, almost whispering voice. "I will protect you."

**Once more, exploring Zevran's softer side! **


	2. Warden 1

_I will protect you_

These words continuously played back through her head as she watched Zevran sleep. Something had happened in his dream, something horrific. In certain ways, it may have been equal to her own vision which had awakened her. Even now, when he was asleep once more, he seemed to be fighting. It occurred to her that Zevran had never shown such a personal, almost weakness before. He shivered in his sleep, almost convulsing. She pulled her blanket further up over his body, feeling the heat of his skin. She sighed, looking at his face. Zevran mumbled something, confusing her. "What?" He repeated what he had said and, though she still couldn't fully understand, it sounded like he was saying "Watch out" or something close. She sighed and laid down, wrapping her arms around the assassin. She closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.

When the warden awoke, she saw that Zevran was still sleeping, though it didn't appear he was battling in his dreams. Slowly, she disentangled herself and donned her armor, stepping outside. The sun was just beginning to cast light on the camp. Leliana was strumming a soft tune on her lute, Sten taking her tent down for her. Oghren belched loudly and groaned as he rolled out of his tent, bottles clattering as he did so. Morrigan smirked, coming to the main campsite and approaching the warden. "You must have had some fun last night. I saw Zevran enter your tent last night; nearly dragged by you. Tis sickening but I suppose you do what you must to find comfort in these...interesting times."

The warden blushed a bit, but narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your business Morrigan, but let me say that nothing happened in my tent last night."

Morrigan laughed. "As you wish."

There was a rustling as the warden's tent flap opened, Zevran stepping out. He was cinching his gloves tight. The warden left Morrigan and went to him. He looked up from his gloves and into her face. Beads of sweat still decorated his brow, a distinct look in his eyes. "Ah, my dear Grey Warden, so kind of you to invite me into your tent, but unfortunate we did not go farther than playful banter." The warden suppressed the sudden feeling of desire the assassin could always arouse from her with his Antivan accent. Though he was hoarse, his voice touched various cords in her that had not been touched for a long time. Seeing him shiver a bit, the warden instinctively touched his arm. She looked into his eyes. That look...the same look he had had the night before when he looked at her. _I will protect you._ She shook her head and smiled at him, standing on her tiptoes a bit to kiss him gently on the cheek. While her lips were so close, she whispered, "What will you protect me from?"

Just as quickly and softly, the Antivan whispered back, "Everything."

The warden closed her eyes, biting her lower lip. She broke away from him, however, before she could say what she was truly wanting to say. She faced the group. "We go to Denerim. Something is amiss in the alieanage, and I intend to find what it is." She looked around at everyone. "I am taking my mabari, Morrigan, and Zevran. Everyone else, stay close but try to relax. Denerim has several peddlers in the Market District; as well as a multitude of opportunities. Do as you wish." She looked to her chosen three and gestured, walking off a bit. "I know not what is going on in the alieanage, but know this. We do not disturb their ways unless we must. They will no thank us for traipsing over their beliefs, and nor will I." She looked Morigan and Zevran each in the eyes, and scratched her mabari behind the ears. "Ready?" She nodded at them and led the way out of the woods toward Denerim.

**I'm liking this so far hope everyone else is too! Doing different POVs is fun, hope it's not confusing anyone.**


	3. Zevran 2

After his fifth sneeze since entering the Alienage, Zevran let out a low, soft groan. His head was killing him, and he found himself increasingly exhausted. Morrigan laughed. "Perhaps we should send you with the Tevintor mages, Zevran. They seem to be curing the elves here of some mysterious plague."

Zevran was about to retort, but the warden held up a hand to silence them. "Something isn't right."

Morrigan smirked. "Of course it isn't! The assasin who brags of such virility is sick! It's not quite as vile as the 'gift' your mangy mongrel left in my pack."

"Not that," the warden hissed, "What are mages doing here? And this plague...twas not here when I left."

Zevran narrowed his eyes. "Twould seem as though there may be more to this than meets the eye," he sniffed, "even to one who called this place home." He coughed, trying to get the hoarseness from his voice. This was ridiculous; what on earth was going on with his body?

The warden looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps we should return to the others before proceeding."

Zevran gritted his teeth. "You think me a hindrance, my dear Grey Warden? You would be wrong in such thinking." In truth, he knew he probably was in fact going to slow them down, but he also knew he HAD to stay with the warden. He HAD to protect her.

The warden nodded. "Very well." She turned and led the group toward a crowd of elves, her former kinsmen, surrounding the Tevintor mages.

**Yeah, sorry it's short. This one and the next one happen at the same time, just so we don't forget about the party members who aren't in the main plot line. Rate and Review with your guess at Zevran's affliction!**


	4. Party 1

Lelliana was swooning over a pair of shoes being offered by an Orlesian peddler. Sten found this entire venture pointless; they should be making the camp more fortified, not shopping. Wynne felt similarly, however she still seized the opportunity to purchase some more scented soap. She found the scents from the market much more pleasing than that which Bodahn offered. She also bought some more thread, as the last batch of torn clothing from Alistair had taken the remainder of her stores.

After deciding against the shoes due to sheer impracticality, Leliana was standing at the stall of a couple of Antivan men. She was perusing their weapons, and saw a dagger she thought Zevran might like. She called out to Alistair, who was admiring Dwarven armor. "Alistair! Do you think Z-" she remembered that Zevran was supposedly dead to the Crows, and wasn't sure if these peddlers were truly market material. "Do you think my brother would like this?" She held the dagger up for the templar to see. Confused, Alistair raised an eyebrow, then realized what Leliana was getting at. He went over to have a closer look, then shrugged his shoulders, not knowing much if anything about dual weapon fighting. "You know him better than I." Leliana smiled. "I think he will." She paid for it, then hurried away in a dignified fashion.

Sten, exasparated yet tired of simply standing while the others bought different things, finally gave in and stepped up to the Orlesian lady's stall. He looked about for a bit, then bought something and quickly hid it under his armor. He cast his eyes toward Leliana, then returned to his position of standing guard.

**Again, sorry it's short this is meant to happen at the same time as the previous chapter so they're both relatively short. Rate and Review what you think Sten bought! **


	5. Warden 2

That night, the party was for the most part asleep. The stench from Allister's lamb stew still clung to the air, making the warden want to vomit as she stared into the fire. She _had_ been asleep, until another spectacular vision. Oh the joys of being a Grey Warden...she realized she was not the only one awake presently, as she heard rustling from a tent. Without moving her head, she turned her eyes to see a blond head poking out of the tent, followed by the rest of the tan, tattooed body. "Up with the owls again, I see."

The assasain laughed. "Ah, but as I've said before, tis the best time." He coughed hard, making his way to the fire.

The warden looked at him. "You should seriously consider asking Wynne for some help. You're getting worse." Where was this concern coming from? Sure, she didn't want any of her team to be sick, but this was different. _I will protect you_. What he had said came back to her mind and she found herself wishing in vain she were a mage so she could heal him herself.

Zevran sighed. "She has already given me a potion." He stared into the fire, a trace of regret etched in his eyes.

The warden looked down. "Oh." She looked back at the elf. A healing potion prepared by Wynne hadn't worked? Something was seriously wrong here.

"I meant what I said. I will protect you, dear warden, from everything." Zevran's voice, though hoarse, was serious and grave. The warden's eyes widened a bit and she nodded, knowing in that instant he would die to keep this vow. Zevran continued, almost to himself. "I will not let him kill you." He turned his head and looked into the warden's eyes. "I will never let him see your blood."

The warden caught her breath as she found her hand moving toward his on its own. Her fingertips tingled as they touched his warm hand, the warmth spreading up her arm as he gripped her hand in his. Slowly, she realized they were moving closer to each other. Their faces were mere inches apart, their breath intermingling.

"I am yours." Zevran clasped the warden behind the head, surprisingly gentle with his fingers, kissing her deeply yet carefully. The warden closed her eyes, her heart racing and her body tingling. This was the kiss she had desired unconsciously since allowing this elf to live.


	6. Morrigan 1

(Hey guys sorry about the hiatus my handsome wolf and I just moved into a new apartment and it took awhile to get internet. I actually still don't have a computer but the PS3 seems to work okay for all intents and purposes. Apologies in advance for spelling mistakes...I have to keep it zoomed out otherwise it crashes for some reason.)

Morrigan watched the warden and Zevran talk, her lips pursed with irritation. Why wasn't he incapacitated yet? Her spell had worked marvoulously thus far; rendering him quite ill and unable to have the benefits of health poultices or healing spells. Why then, was he still so persistant? Another problem was arising: somehow the assasin was having prophetic dreams, premonitions of the future. Worse, they seemed to involve not only Morrigan's own death, but the death of both Allistar and the warden before the Archdemon could be slain. In fact, the only one who seemed to survive in these premonitions was the very elf who she was attempting to incapacitate and perhaps kill, or abandon as she saw fit. Nevertheles, the mage did not undo the spell. She was confident enough in her abilities and those of the Grey Warden, despite the distinct lack of common sense regarding an assasin. Finding herself bored, Morrigan bit into an apple from her pack, carefully ignoring the one sitting beside her bedroll, which seemed somewhat rotten in a sense, yet looked irrisistably edible. A single strand of blonde hair was wrapped around the fruit, practically glittering in the firelight. She laughed to herself, knowing it was only a matter of time before the Antivan would be completely incapacitated and she could do as she pleased.


	7. Zevran 3

Zevran was only keeping his eyes open by sheer force of will. His strength was gone, his very life nearly sapped from his body. What in Andraste's name was going on? The warden was staring at him. Zevran cursed himself inwardly. If only he had taken Morrigan up on her offer to cover him for watch duty, but no. He simply HAD to protect the warden at all costs. Besides, he doubted his condition would be any better if he were sleeping. There was something unsettling about how suddenly his illness had developed, and how persistent it seemed to be. He pulled his fur blanket closer to him, shivering despite its warmth. His ears were ringing, head pounding with each heartbeat. Just for a moment, no harm in but a moment, he let his eyes close...

Distantly, Zevran felt a cool hand touching his cheeks and forehead. From somewhere closeby, he heard a muttered "Maker's breath," before feeling an ice cold wetness lay over his forehead. He forced himself to open his eyes just a little. He was laying on the ground, probably still where he'd been keeping watch with the warden. Not much time seemed to have passed. He looked up into the wide, concerned eyes of the warden. His lips parted but before he could speak he broke into a coughing fit. The warden lifted him into a sitting position and tipped a flask of water to his lips. The liquid was cool wet and refreshing. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be lowered back to laying down, resting his head on the warden's lap.


	8. Wynne 1

**Sorry the chapters have been so short guys! Still trying to figure out how our PS3 works with this site as well as teaching myself to use a mac...not a good combo. **

After many spells, health poultices, and prayer, Wynne and the warden finally managed to bring Zevran's fever down to a non-lethal level, yet he still did not wake from his sleep. The warden was deeply disturbed by this, even moreso because he seemed to convulse occasionally in his sleep. Wynne noticed this as well, and pulled the warden aside one evening, leading her into the Antivan's tent. They sat down, one on either side of the assassin, leaving little room in the small area but perhaps that was best. It encouraged hushed tones.

"I would like to discuss Zevran's condition."

"I am all ears, as we elves like to say," the warden blushed and looked down, realizing she'd just quoted the very elf who lay possibly dying.

Wynne smiled a bit, but then grew serious again. "When did he begin to show signs of something being amiss?"

The warden thought a bit. "A few days ago. I'd had a vision and was sitting by the campfire when he came out of his tent and sat beside me. He seemed pale...and hoarse. He was feverish and sweating but not too badly: I thought it was because of some nightmare. He had the look about him, the same one Allistar gets and I'm sure I have. A few minutes later and I was guiding him to my tent and putting coverlets over him. He seemed almost desperate." She sighed.

Wynne nodded, finding it curious to say the least that someone who was not a mage and not a Grey Warden would have a reaction to a dream like that, but it didn't come as a total shock. "And in the days that followed?"

"He worsened. The next day was when we went to the Alienage; Zev Morrigan and I. Of course my mabari as well. He started sneezing and was getting more hoarse, more feverish. Yet he-" the warden broke off, biting her lip. "He pressed on because he made an oath the previous night to protect me. From everything." She looked at the wizened mage. "I don't know what he dreamt of, but I believe it must involve my death. Yet it doesn't matter if he can't fight. He's the best man I have, the best rogue. I-I don't know what I'd do without him." The last was more of a whisper as the warden looked down at the dark skinned elf.

Wynne nodded, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "What happened the following night?"

The warden drew a shaky breath, composing herself. "I was sitting by the campfire again. Again, he joined me, seeming to have had another dream. He was definitely sick, and I told him to seek you out for healing. He-he said he'd already taken a potion from you and it hadn't worked."

The mage sighed and nodded. "Ah yes, I remember. He approached me the morning you were to go to the Alienage, in secret."

The warden nodded. "I thought as much. Yesterday I couldn't say how he was: I left him here at camp when I took my mabari out scouting. Last night, we stood watch together. He was chilling; had three furs wrapped around him and was still shivering. I knew I should have made him stay to rest but...he's had this look in his eyes since the first night. Tis the look of a desperate man needing to right some wrong before-"

"Before the end." Wynne finished. She could tell the warden was deeply attached to this elf, and she wanted nothing more than to point her staff and make him well again for their leader's sake.

The warden closed her eyes and nodded. "Then he just collapsed. I tried to bring his fever down and he woke up. He seemed as though he were about to say something but couldn't. Then he passed out again, and that's how Morrigan found us this morning."

Wynne nodded, staring at the Antivan in deep thought. "No illness appears this suddenly and spreads through one's system so rapidly. No natural ailment. It would appear my hypothesis was correct," she looked at the warden, "Zevran has been either cursed or poisoned."


	9. Morrigan 2

**Hey guys I think this story is starting to round up to an end. Not this chapter of course, but in the next few. I appreciate any reviews so let me know what you think!**

Morrigan stood at her camp, watching the warden and Wynne leave Zevran's tent. "Blood and damnation..." she muttered to herself. They'd somehow managed to bring the Antivan's fever down, yet the curse was still going strong. The assasin's body had at last fully succumbed to the paralyzing effects, and now it was only a matter of time before she would make her next move. _The warden suspects nothing,_ she thought. _After my courtesy call this morning to see if anything had been spotted and how that elf was doing, I am innocent in her eyes._ She looked over to the apple beside her bedroll. Its brightness was waning, being replaced by a darker, more rotten look. _Soon._ She decided then to go down to the main camp for another 'courtesy call', this time on the warden.

Morrigan stood by the campfire beside the warden, who was staring into the flames. "What comes, my friend?"

The warden sighed. "I fear we are to lose him," she looked up at Morrigan, "but I should thank you for coming this morning."

Morrigan nodded. "Twas fortuitous I felt the need then." She glanced at the Antivan's tent, then looked back to the warden. "And how are you faring? Twould be unfortunate for all of us should this ailment prove contagious."

The warden shook her head. "Tis not a natural illness. Wynne believes he has been cursed or poisoned."

Morrigan's eyes widened. _She knows?_ "Who is capable of such things here?"

The warden bit her lower lip. "I've been thinking hard, trying to find the answer to that very question. I can only think of four people capable of either. Leliana can concoct minor poisons, though she is hardly skilled enough to do this much damage I think. Zevran himself is an expert at poisoning, but what reason could he have to poison himself? Wynne is a mage, though her spells are those of healing." She stood up, facing Morrigan. "Then there is you. You are a talented battle mage, and have shown your skill with curses multiple times against the darkspawn. You also have shown several times you do not trust Zevran and believe him to be a danger. And you make your tent so far from the rest of us you cannot be watched, yet you see all of our movements." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "And yet, you've earned my trust far too many times for me to put the blame of something so heinous on you." The warden pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just hope that whoever has done this is not a friend, because I will kill them if Zev dies."

Morrigan's eyes widened upon hearing this. _Perhaps the warden cares more for him than I originally thought..._


	10. Zevran 4

A blazing inferno, the flames forming the faces of past lovers whose lives had been ended so swiftly. Their eyes burned into Zevran's soul, screaming for the mercy he had never given. The elf could only remain in the center of this whirling pillar of pain. He was on his knees, clutching his head with his eyes closed. He heard her voice then, the creamy voice of the elven warden who he'd grown to care so much for. _Do not kill him. He has information. Do not kill him. He could prove useful. Do not kill him. I trust him._ Zevran was reminded painfully of the poisons he'd concocted for the warden, intending to finish his job. Yet he had not. He'd never so much as look at her bowl of lamb stew with the intent to poison her. After all, Allistar's cooking was poison enough. A scream. He looked up into the flames. There she was, a hand reaching out as she screamed, falling. He tried to stand, to run to her, to save her, to call out to her, but could do nothing but watch as she was swallowed up into the flames. The heat, the unbearable heat, it was too much. The elf allowed himself to fall onto his back, giving up the fight. After all, there was no longer a cause to resist: his warden had fallen to the flames meant to torture him and he had done nothing to save her.

Wynne stood and went to the flap of the tent, calling out for the warden. Zevran's fever had spiked yet again, and his convulsions had stopped. It was almost as though he had given up, which was the worst thing he could do.

_She is gone from me; I cannot fight any longer. Flames take me, for she is with the Maker._

**A look into the mind of our beloved Zevran, as his body and mind are ravaged by the curse. What will become of our dear elf?**


	11. Sten 1

**Now back to the other budding romance!**

Sten stood on watch, Asala in his hands. They'd remained in camp for the past couple days, the only ventures being to scout. This infuriated him: they should be pressing on, with or without the elf. Of course, the warden would never hear of such a thing. _This is why women do not fight. They are soft and emotional._ His eyes drifted to Leliana, who was sitting outside her tent playing her lute. _Then again, not all women are an inconvenience._ He looked around to be sure of no threats from outsiders, then walked to Leliana. He stood there listening to her music for a bit, hoping she would sing. He shook his head and cleared his throat to get her attention. The bard stopped playing and laid her lute down beside her. "Yes? How can I help?"

Sten had never attempted to 'woo' a woman before, and he had not been prepared. Her soft voice disarmed him. Gathering his wits quickly, he looked at her with his usual cold stare. "I believe there may be something in the brush at the edge of camp. You should investigate."

Leliana's eyes widened with both surprise and hurt. "Very well," she stood, "Over there?"

Sten nodded and returned to his watch. He watched as Leliana went to the edge of camp and disappeared in the brush. He heard a startled gasp as she found her package. She came out of the brush and went straight to him, holding the pair of elegant Orlesian shoes she'd seen in Denerim. "Oh, Sten! They're BEAUTIFUL!" Sten's lips twitched in what could have been the beginings of a smile. His eyes widened, however, when the bard suddenly jumped up and latched onto him in a hug. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her as well to hold her up, doubting her arms would be strong enough to hold herself up.

When she was back on the ground, Sten watched as Leliana sat down and took her bards dancing boots off and donned the Orlesian shoes. She stood and did a twirl, giggling with glee as they glided over the ground so easily. She seemed to positively glow with affection as she looked at Sten. "How dear of you! Thank you so much!"

Sten watched as the bard danced to her tent ant picked up her lute, strumming a soft tune he hadn't heard before. Her voice was soft and smooth as she started singing. Sten allowed himself to smile as he watched her play and sing, raising an eyebrow as he began to recognize the words. Though a different take on the method, she was in fact performing the Quinari prayers for the dead. Then, she sped up and danced around the campfire as her tune and song changed to something he could not quite catch. Though it seemed similar to her song of valor, there was something different. He felt his stomach flutter, as though he'd drank a spirit of some sort as he watched her. What was this feeling? He contented himself to simply watch her performance rather than wonder at his present feelings.


	12. Mabari 1

As Zevran's condition continued to worsen, the warden's mabari could sense her hopelessness. Though hurt that she had more faith in the elf than in him, he decided he should help his master. After all, she had saved his life at Ostagar. He sniffed around Zevran's tent, looking for any clues. The only thing out of place was an apple with a single bite taken out of it. It was so bright and tasty looking, yet on further inspection it smelled rotten to the core. Why on earth would anyone eat such a thing? Finding nothing else, the mabari left the tent and sniffed around camp some more. Wynne's tent smelled of elfroot and deep mushrooms. He bit back a plaintative whine to ask for a mabari crunch, knowing now was NOT the time for snacking. He continued on, sniffing the dwarf's tent. It reeked of various alcohols and spirits, none of which seemed remotely tempting to him or the elf. He continued on, sniffing Leliana's tent. He could only smell the flowers she had hanging around. He continued sniffing, completely ignoring Allistar's tent as he was simply to daft to comprehend such a thing as poison. He found himself sniffing around Morrigan's camp. He picked up a familiar scent and followed it to her bedroll. Beside it sat an apple, dark and rotten. Wrapped around it was a single blonde hair. Upon further sniffing, the mabari realized that the hair was Zevran's. His ears went back and he rushed back to his warden master.

The mabari barked and jumped around the warden, finally getting her attention for more than a pat on the head. "What is it boy?" He barked and ran to Zevran's tent, barking again. "What?" The warden went to him, opening the flap of the tent and allowing the dog inside. The mabari went straight into a corner and found the apple. He gently picked it up in his mouth, being careful not to bite into it so he couldn't be hurt. He dropped it into his warden's awaiting hands. "Uh...it's an apple. Wait, it's brighter than an apple. And squishy, like it's rotten." She kept hold of it. "Good boy." The mabari barked and ran out of the tent, jumping around. The warden came out and went to him, following him as he ran to Morrigan's camp, crouching in the shadows. He sniffed and, not smelling her, ran on in. The warden raised an eyebrow. "This is hardly polite." The dog snorted and gently nosed at the apple, not wanting to pick it up or otherwise make the hair fall off. His warden had to see this. The warden knelt down and examined the apple. "It's rotten to the core: why would Morrigan keep such a thing? Wait, whose hair is this?" She looked at her mabari. "Is this Zevran's?" He nodded and licked his nose. "I don't believe it...Thank you for telling me. You're a good boy. You deserve a double baked mabari crunch for this." The mabari barked happily and ran to Wynne's tent. The warden followed, carrying both the apples. Though she was relieved that they were a step closer to curing Zevran, she was hurt that her trust had been violated by one of her closest friends.

**Mabari to the rescue!**


	13. Warden 3

Wynne's eyes widened as she heard the warden tell the story of how the mabari had discovered the cause of Zevran's illness. Though she could scarcely believe it, she didn't find it all that surprising that Morrigan would do such a thing. She gave the mabari several mabari crunches as a reward, then shook her head as she examined the apples. "I am sorry, but I cannot undo this curse. The only one who can undo it is Morrigan herself." The warden sighed. Wynne put a hand on her shoulder. "It will be alright. I shall keep Zevran stable until you convince Morrigan to help." The warden nodded and left, going to find Morrigan. She did not have to look far. Staring at Zevran's tent from the shadows was a giant spider.

The warden walked to the giant spider, sword and dagger drawn. "Morrigan, if it's you I suggest you shapeshift back to human form now!"

Morrigan stood up as the spider disappeared. "Such dramatics! Lower your weapons, if you please."

The warden shook her head, lips pursing in hurt and disgust. "It was you. It was you all along. I trusted you dammit! But all along, you were the one cursing Zevran. Why, Morrigan? Why?"

"Because I had to. He is an assassin, who tried to kill you as I recall. Yet you refused to kill him then as you continued to refuse as time progressed. He cannot be trusted, and I saw to the safety of us all."

"By attempting to kill him?" The warden shook her head in disbelief.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think the curse would kill him? I am not so ignorant to the ways of the world as you might imagine, warden. No, the curse was meant merely to incapacitate him."

"You will undo it. Now."

Morrigan laughed. "And why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I will kill you. Slowly, just as you deserve."

Morrigan narrowed her eyes. "Do not be misled into thinking that by my death the curse is lifted. It can only be lifted by being passed along to another."

The warden narrowed her eyes, then had an idea. "Very well. If you do not lift the curse, I will make it my privilege to pass it on to you."

Morrigan laughed. "As IF I would eat such an apple! Do you truly think me so daft?" Morrigan truthfully felt a pang of fear, however, knowing there were several ways to slip the cursed fruit to her.

The warden smirked, sensing the fear. "It's lift the curse or receive it in his stead, Morrigan. The choice is yours."

"Never in your wildest dreams, warden."

"Very well." The warden turned and walked off, holding the apples thoughtfully.

Morrigan watched her walking away and shook her head. "Blood and damnation! Get back here, warden! I'll lift the blasted curse."


	14. Zevran 5

**This will be the last chapter! Review and let me know if I should make a sequel!**

The blazing inferno continued to sap Zevran's strength. He saw Rinna in the flames and reached out for her. She should not have to suffer this: she was with the Maker. The image changed to the warden, who smiled at him. _Zevran, my love, it's time to wake up. Come on, wake up. I need you, Zev._ Zevran felt new life return to him with her creamy voice. He pulled himself up to a crouch, shaking. He reached toward the warden in the flames. _Come on, Zev. It's time to wake up, my love._ Zevran slowly stood, stumbling toward the flame. With each step, he seemed to get stronger, the heat receading slowly. He kept going, a sense of urgency now filling him. He had to get to the warden, he had to leave this cursed place and save her. He'd made an oath and he would die to keep it. _That's it, Zev. Fight for it. Come on._ Zevran reached forward and stumbled through the flames, feeling the crisp night breeze at last encircling him with the scent of minced onions and rosemary.

Zevran finally stopped convulsing as his fever began to drop. His eyelids fluttered open at last and he saw the warden, who instantly started crying tears of joy as he awakened. He raised an arm and touched her face. He gasped lightly then laughed a bit as she fell onto him, hugging him tightly. He patted her back. "Ah, my dear Grey Warden. Did I not swear to protect you?"

"I thought you would die!" There were tears straining her voice.

Zevran smiled, then saw Morrigan glaring at him, the apples in her hands. He raised an eyebrow, then started to realize what happened when Wynne inscribed the glyph of paralysis on the ground at Morrigan's feet.

The warden suddenly kissed him passionately, gripping his blonde hair.

As they broke away, Zevran smirked. "I am yours."

**The End!**


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